Is-is this real life or is this just fantasy? Oh my, I never thought I would have so many reviews and favs in just a couple of days, thank you so much, I am really happy so many people seem to enjoy this / Which is why I already post the first chapter! I intended to post it on the weekend, but...ah,well, I was impatient and thought that maybe my readers would enjoy it :3 Please tell me whenever you find any mistake, though, I am really keen on keeping this as flawless as possible! Maybe I should look for a beta reader...But there haven't been any complaints so far, so we'll see.^^
RenaHana: Thank you so much for your review! The first review to a story is always something special for an author, just like the opening waltz of a prom n_n
And now (hopefully) enjoy! :D
EDIT: Changed the paragraphs and added the necessary accents. n_n
First Chapter
Matthew had to support the Veela heavily when they made their way to his house. It was a little blockhouse he had built himself, with his own bare hands and sweat and dedication and only a little bit of magic, and he was secretly very proud of it. It had a decent vegetable garden in the backyard, protected by strong spells and a wooden fence, and there was a huge willow in front of the house, its long rods now covered in snow.
The Veela in his arms moaned softly and pained when he helped him over the doorstep into the living room. It was a nice, clean room, the biggest in the house, with a blank, polished, light wooden floor and a thick white bear rug in front of the fireplace made out of grey stone. There were a few book shelves bursting with books and a comfy, worn couch in a dark red, a black, scratched coffee table in front of it. There was a window with thick, red curtains he had bound back with two black cords and he could see the Veela's eyes gaze swiftly over it when he helped him onto the sofa.
"Lie down," He said, his voice too quiet again and he cleared his throat before he spoke again. "First, I need to-to have a look at your injuries, would you mind to-"
"There will be blood on the couch if I lie down," The Veela pointed out and looked almost hesitantly at him with his bright blue eyes while clutching his side.
"It's fine," Matthew said and smiled reassuringly. He just hoped that he didn't look too much like an idiot. "It's old anyways, but you don't have to…I just thought that it would probably be more comfortable." He paused and, after a minute of hesitation, brought up his hands to gently open the first button of the Veela's coat.
"Ah, chéri, so intent on undressing me already?" The man winked and Matthew felt his cheeks heating up as he quickly let go of him and stammered: "Ah, n-no, I just wanted to—I didn't want do-"
"It's fine," The Veela said and a fine crease appeared between his elegant brows. "I was just joking, chéri, don't be so upset."
"Matthew," Matthew croaked and now really felt like an idiot, but he was a man and he couldn't possibly concentrate on being intelligent, polite and not being overwhelmed by the Veela's charme and fuck him right there and then into the couch. He inhaled deeply and reached out for his buttons again to open his cloak. "I'm Matthew."
"My name is François," The Veela said just as the cloak fell away and revealed his clothes underneath. They were surprisingly colourful, his shirt a vivid shade of blue and his trousers a passionate Bordeaux-red and it fitted him so well that Matthew almost smiled, but then he took a closer look. Both was soaked in blood and Matthew sighed a little sadly because François wore only the finest fabrics, that he could see, even though his shirt was in tatters on one side and everything was dotted with his plum-red blood. There was an ugly wound stretched over his rips, right to his hip, and Matthew nearly got sick when he discovered the white of one of his rips shimmering through.
"Oh," He said softly and bit his lip. "That looks awful."
François smiled, but it seemed twisted and melancholic. "It happens when you are different. People run around and say you are a monster because of things you cannot control."
"Who-" Matthew stopped and took his time to fetch a bowl of water and a cloth to kneel down in front of the Veela before he started to gently clean the wound. "Who did this to you?"
"Villagers." François whimpered softly at his touch and started to hum slightly as if to comfort himself. "I am a half-breed," He said after a moment, "Girls are overly attracted to me nevertheless, not that I don't like it, but I only need to walk on the streets and they are after me. I don't do most of these things willingly, it just happens. Most people don't seem to understand this."
Matthew didn't know what to say, so he settled for grabbing his wand and starting to recite a spell to at least stop the bleeding. He did a fairly good job in stitching it up with a light, golden string he produced out of his wand; however, he couldn't to anything to avoid the grunts and pained noises escaping from François' lips. He also noticed that the Veela was still shivering, his limbs trembling from cold and he wasn't surprised when François reached for his cloak as soon as he was finished with wrapping white gauze around the wound and huddled into it. Matthew sighed a bit and set the wood in the fireplace in fire, listening at the merry cracking flames and thus slowly calming down.
"You can-you can stay until you are healthy, if you want," He offered and bit his lips again, not being able to hold eye contact when François' blue eyes pierced through him.
"That would be very nice," He said slowly and softly, shifting a bit and stretching his legs. Matthew tried not to ogle like a pervert; he blushed instead and stared at the wall, wondering about his rapidly beating heart. "I don't know if they know where I live at, but I would be glad if I could avoid the risk of being murdered. I like being alive."
"You're beautiful," Matthew blurted out and nearly smacked himself. How eloquent, Matthew, he silently told himself, and tried to make it up under François' amused stare with a stammered: "I mean-you know that, of course, and you surely think it's only because of the-the Veela thing, but it's not, in fact you would be as nice looking if you were a human, not that you're nice, you're gorgeous-I mean-"
"I am a half-breed, so I am human, at least partly, mon cher" François said quietly and even more amused and Matthew didn't know what to make out of that, so he weakly decided to just shut the fuck up and stop blabbering in Idiot. "But merci, you are very, how is it called, cute."
"I like French," Matthew said before he could stop himself and reddened even further when he realized the double-meaning of what he had just said and Francois tossed his head back and laughed, revealing the elegant line of his throat. Matthew followed it with hungry eyes and desire and swallowed lightly.
"I'm sure you do, cheri," He said with a playful wink and sighed contentedly. "It's warm."
"I, uhm, there is a small guest room upstairs. You can use it if you want, it would be no problem."
"Can I stay here?" François asked and gestured to the couch he was sitting on. "It's so nice and warm here."
"Oh! Well, sure, if it's not uncomfortable for you…"
"I can assure you, I am perfectly fine," François said with a smile, revealing pearly-white, slightly beaked teeth. "Merci beaucoup."
"No problem," Matthew answered and hesitated a bit before he fetched a thick blanket and a long, stretched shirt of himself. He had noticed that François was an inch or two smaller than him and so he hoped that it would suit him. Both was handed over to the Veela who thanked him with a stunning smile, even though he sighed a little at the sight of the old, worn shirt. Matthew asked him if he was hungry, but he only got a negative answer and a soft, charming "Bonne nuit, Mathieu, sleep well" that made his throat go dry.
"Good night," He answered weakly and almost fled upstairs when François started to unbutton his trousers.
Matthew had the slight feeling that a hard time was laying ahead of him.